King of His Kingdom

Chapter 3 - Mr. Peasant Delivery Boy

"Code. White. I'm sure you know what that means. If anything about our guest leaks out, you're the one who will be blamed, Mr. Peasant Delivery Boy."

Damon gritted his teeth. When was this condescension going to end? Was it a crime to be a poor delivery guy?

He stared at her coldly,

"I'm well aware of the demands of my job ma'am."

And immediately he walked away.

Imagine, an ordinary receptionist, young enough to be his baby sister – if he had one – had the guts to speak to him so shabbily because he was not rich. He shook his head bitterly as he stood in the elevator, riding up to the 103rd floor. He would do everything in his power to become rich enough to buy Hotel De Salvatore.

Just thinking about it made him almost laugh at himself. It was such a farfetched dream. Utterly impossible. But he decided to hold on to it. It would keep him going.

The elevator pinged as he arrived on the correct floor.

Walking briskly out he located the correct room and pushed the doorbell. Wow. This was one of the floors that housed the suites.

A room here had to cost at least $500,000. Damon shook his head in wonder. If he could only afford this in his wildest dreams.

The door opened and a tall, strikingly handsome man appeared.

Damon's eyes widened. The man was taller than him. Damon didn't usually encounter men who were taller than him, he was 6'5 so it was something of a novelty.

The man's height added to the list of things that made Damon feel even lesser than him even though the height difference wasn't much.

"Yeah? What are you staring at? Are you gonna deliver the package or not?"

The man demanded harshly in a deep, resonant voice.

Damon snapped out of it.

"I'm sorry sir."

He then handed the box to the man.

"Hold on right there, I'd like to check it out to be sure it's my order."

The man stopped Damon as he was about to turn around.

Damon nodded and stayed put as the man smirked at him and began tearing the box open. He enjoyed humiliating the delivery men who brought such lewd packages to him by shoving some of the contents in their faces, and this one was not going to be an exception.

"Jakey baby? Aren't you done?"

A sensuous female voice called from within the room.

Damon blinked and tried to keep a straight face.

"I'll be right there, Honey," Jack mumbled, still struggling to open the package.

"Be quick about it. I need you." The female voice whined.

For some reason, Damon felt her voice sounded familiar, but he just couldn't place it. He was probably just hallucinating. But wouldn't it be a hoot if it was one of Joyce's high-faulting friends who was in there? The thought made Damon almost laugh but he managed to keep a straight face.

"What the hell is this!" Jack suddenly bellowed, after removing the protective cloth within the box.

"S– sir?" Damon asked, confused.

Jack threw the box at him and several bunny-shaped stopwatches fell out of the box to his feet.

"Is this what I ordered? Are you crazy or something?" He railed at Damon, looking as though he wanted to give him the third slap for today.

Damon's eyes widened and he quickly bent to pick up the items. He must have mixed the man's box with his last delivery.

"How can you be poor and stupid at the same time!" Jack shouted from above him.

Then he kicked some of the stopwatches away and as Damon reached for them he kicked him right in his stomach.

Damon gasped and collapsed on the floor.

"If I don't get what I ordered within the next five minutes, consider yourself out of a job! Fool!" Then he slammed the door in Damon's face.

Wouldn't it have been better if it'd been a slap he'd received? Damon clutched his midriff as he shuffled to his feet, carrying the box of stopwatches that he'd finished gathering. Why did people have to be so mean?

He limped over to the elevator and went downstairs to his bike. He ignored the receptionist who looked at him with an amused expression as he emerged with his shirt askew, his hand clutching his stomach and the other hand clutching a half-opened box to his chest.

He heard her laughing as he walked out of the lobby. He shook his head in pain and hurt as he exchanged the box of watches with the right one on his bike. How could he have even made such a mistake? The box he was supposed to deliver had a customized seal on it, how had he forgotten to look out for that?

He sighed as he took the right box this time.

"Be sure to be thrown from the window this time delivery bum." The receptionist called after him as he entered the elevator to go up the second time.

He felt his blood boil at her words. In an equal and just society, she would have no right to speak to him like that. Just because he was doing one of the jobs considered menial, he was treated this way.

He pushed the bell on Jack Pierce's suite again.

"Come in, you pauper!" He heard him shout from inside.

Damon gritted his teeth and pushed open the door.

For a moment he was once again mesmerized by the extravagance and opulence that marked the place, but he was jolted out of the reverie when Jack shouted again from an inner room,

"Are your feet as slow as your brain? Get in here now before I call your boss and have you fired!"

Damon quickly hurried in the direction of the voice to an open door.

"I'm sorry sir." He bowed as he entered.

He raised his head and moved forward to put the box in Jack's outstretched hand when he saw the face of the woman who was coiled around Jack's back, giving him a neck massage.

Damon's feet immediately stopped moving. He couldn't believe his eyes. It had to be a joke. No… it couldn't be.

Joyce Ramsey smirked at him as he looked at her in shock.